


The Talk

by Requin



Category: Holby City
Genre: Berena Appreciation Week 2018, Day Two, F/F, Family, Family talk, Fluff, great aunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 08:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15681909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requin/pseuds/Requin
Summary: Bernie and Guinevere have a little chat about falling in love.





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Bernie's nickname might be familiar to those who've read The Wedding and The Move.

“Bunny? Can I ask you a question?” 

Bernie lowers her BMJ, squinting in the light streaming through the open window. It’s already warm even though it’s still early morning. 

“Of course.” 

Guinevere snuggles next to her on the sofa, bringing her cup of tea with her. She struggles to fit her long limbs on the two-seater, her knees pressed against Bernie’s side. 

“How did you know you loved Serena?” 

Bernie smiles. She puts her journal away on the coffee table, and fully turns to face Guinevere. 

“Are you asking if there was a bolt of lightening?” 

Guinevere rolls her eyes, something she’s been doing a lot more in the last few months, and which strongly reminds Bernie of Cameron at the same age. 

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Bernie puts her arm around Guinevere’s shoulders and they readjust their legs so that they sit properly next to each other. Guinevere puts her head on Bernie’s shoulder. 

“It was like a series of lightening bolts.” 

Bernie feels Guinevere smile. Her hair smells of Serena’s shampoo, a familiar scent of verbena and lavender. 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

Guinevere looks up, her eyes dancing. 

“Little things.”

“Do you remember the first time you saw her?” 

Bernie smiles. She strokes Guinevere’s hair as if she were a child again, and she marvels at how long it has got. 

“I do. It was on my first day at Holby. And Serena was having car troubles in the car park, so I offered my assistance.”

Guinevere snorts and Bernie swats her shoulder. 

“Did you fall in love with her then?” 

“I don’t know about love, but I was definitely intrigued.” 

Guinevere huffs out a little laugh. 

“And then we kept bumping into each other.” 

Here Bernie lowers her voice. 

“I think Serena did it on purpose.” 

Guinevere giggles, snuggles in closer. They have hours before they have to be anywhere, and the living room smells of Serena’s roses, planted just underneath the main window. 

“When we started working together, I realised just how clever she was, and that was very attractive too.”

“But you were friends first, right?” 

Bernie looks down into Guinevere’s eyes, and they look hopeful, which means there is something afoot here, something more than a trip down memory lane. 

“We were, yes. We still are. She’s my favourite person.” 

Guinevere smiles. Bernie is about to ask what all this is about, but Guinevere has more questions. 

“And you weren’t scared to lose your friendship?” 

Bernie bites off a smile. She thinks she knows what’s going on. She wishes Serena was here to witness this, but Saturday mornings are reserved for luxuriously long baths. 

“At first, yes. We got on so well, and it had been a while since I’d had such a good friend like her. But, in the end, it was worth it. It’s risky, but here we are, 16 years later, with grand kids and a great niece that eats all our biscuits.”

Guinevere squawks in offence, but they end up laughing, Bernie tickling Guinevere’s sides until she squirms away. 

“How did you know you wanted to be more than just friends?” 

Bernie pauses. Guinevere is turning 15 next month. She can’t just blurt out that she wanted to slide her hands underneath Serena’s blouse and suck on her neck. She tries not to blush. 

“Well, I wanted to be with her all the time. I missed her when she wasn’t around.”

Guinevere nods like she knows exactly what Bernie means. 

“And, I wanted her to be happy. To make her happy.” 

Guinevere is silent for a little while, and Bernie lets her mull things over. The teenager has learnt from her parents to have all her facts before reaching a conclusion. 

Bernie has gone back to her journal, reading something on laser technology that makes her feel like she’s reading a sci-fi novella. 

“Bunny?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’m too young to be in love?” 

Bernie closes the journal and shakes her head. 

“Is this about Isobel?”

Guinevere starts, her eyes wide and her mouth open. 

“How did you know? Did Serena say anything?”

“Serena knows?”

“No! But she knows everything, I don’t know how!” 

Bernie laughs and opens her arms. Guinevere comes in for a hug. 

“She didn’t tell me anything, love. But you’ve been talking about Isobel for months.”

“No I haven’t!” 

The voice is muffled by Bernie’s shoulder. Bernie chuckles. 

“Yes, you have. It’s been ‘Isobel says this’ and ‘Isobel says that’ and ‘Isobel is so brilliant and kind and pretty’” 

Guinevere groans and buries her face deeper in Bernie’s shirt. 

“Oh my god,” she whines. 

Bernie tries not to laugh, because this is an important moment, but Guinevere is adorable, and Bernie has loved her fiercely since she the day she was born. 

“Now. Tell me what Isobel thinks about all this.”

Guinevere draws herself up, her eyes down and her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Her hair is covering half her face. 

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken about it. I mean, she’s great, and I like her so much, Bunny. But as more than a friend. I really, really want to-want to kiss her.” 

Guinevere’s face turns as red as her hair. 

“That’s totally fine, ok?” 

Guinevere nods, still hidden by her hair. She’s got a hand on the pendant Serena gave her for her 14th birthday. Bernie smiles at the familiar gesture.

“Do you think she might like you back?”

Guinevere flumps on the sofa dramatically, her face a picture of teenage angst. 

“Oh, I don’t know! How can you tell? We’re always together, and we always have a great time. But, maybe? She told me I looked pretty the other day. And she held my hand all the way to the bus stop. And! And! She said we should go to that stupid end of school dance thing together.” 

Bernie presses her lips together. 

“I think she likes you.” 

Guinevere’s eyes turn from anguished to ecstatic. 

“Yeah?” 

“The best thing in these situations is to follow Serena’s advice. Talk to her. Communicate.” 

Guinevere nods a little frantically. 

“We’re meeting up later to study History together. Do you think I should say anything?” 

Bernie pauses again. This isn’t really her domain. While she has become better at talking about feelings, she is not what one would call an expert, even approaching 70. 

She’s trying to formulate an answer, looking into Guinevere’s eager face, when she is saved by Serena entering the room. 

“Say what to who?”

Guinevere blushes and shakes her head. 

“Is this about Isobel?” 

Guinevere puts her head in her hands and groans again. Serena winks at Bernie and joins them on the sofa, gathers up Guinevere in her arms and kisses her forehead. Bernie tries to hide a sigh of relief. She thinks she’s done pretty well so far, but she’s glad the cavalry has arrived. 

“It’s all right, petal. Any girl, anyone, would be lucky to have you,” Serena says soothingly. 

“But I want her, not just anyone.” 

“Then tell her. Nothing has ever come from hiding your feelings or running away.” 

Bernie flushes and looks away, but Serena touches her hand and brings her back, her eyes shining with love. Bernie flushes for a different reason. 

Guinevere hugs Serena fiercely and then grabs Bernie and draws her in. 

“Thanks you guys.” 

She wriggles away after a second and bounds off, hair to her lower back, slim and tall and so full of life. They hear her run up the stairs to her bedroom and the door slams. 

She usually stays with them once or twice a week, more if Cameron and the kids are visiting or if Charlotte is in the country. It’s been a marvel to see her grow up, and witnessing this, her first love, feels as momentous as her first steps. 

“I knew we should have built that dungeon,” Serena grumbles from her place in Bernie’s arms. 

Bernie huffs a laugh, one second away from a proper honk. 

“A dungeon wouldn’t have kept me from you.”

She places a kiss on Serena’s cheek, and it turns into a proper kiss, Serena’s skin warm and fragrant from her bath. 

 

Bernie has her hand up Serena’s top, taking advantage of the fact that Serena has foregone a bra for the moment, and Serena has her hands buried in her hair, when Guinevere comes running back down, her eyes glued to her phone and a blush on her cheeks. 

They separate with the ease of years spent looking after a child and then a teenager with very few boundaries. 

“I’ve messaged her! Can I go over there for lunch?” 

She is practically bouncing with energy. Serena smiles and nods and Guinevere squeals and disappears up the stairs once more. 

“Oh to be young again,” Serena sighs. 

Bernie snorts and nudges Serena with her shoulder. 

“You seemed fine last night.” 

Serena colours a little but the smirk on her face is very much present. 

“Yes, well, I guess experience trumps age in that department.” 

“I very much agree.” 

They are leaning back into each other, eyes intent, when Guinevere comes running back down, dressed in ripped jeans and a strange jumper made of recycled plastic fibres. Her hair is in a ponytail, and she’s stolen some of Serena’s lipstick. 

“How do I look?” 

Serena stands up and holds her at arms length. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” 

Guinevere beams, kisses them both, and practically skips to the door with promises of texts throughout the afternoon. 

“So…want to see what else experience trumps?” 

Bernie smiles very widely. 

“Lead the way, Ms Campbell.” 

Serena hasn’t been Ms Campbell in more than 10 years because they decided to hyphenate after a drunken coin toss, but the nickname has stuck, and it still carries its effects. 

Serena smirks. 

 

Hours later, Bernie is trying to catch her breath. Serena looks up from between Bernie’s thighs, smirk still firmly in place. 

They kiss, and it’s familiar and it’s still so, so hot, still, after so many years together. Bernie feels tendrils of desire swirl in her belly, and she’s about to slip a hand between their bodies, eager to touch Serena, when their phones ping on the nightstand. 

It’s Guinevere’s personalised ping, one the teenager imputed herself, and it’s a cross between a French horn and the red trauma phone. Not really something one can ignore. 

Bernie groans, and Serena grins and rolls off, grabs her phone. 

“Oh oh! Listen to this, our lothario has news!”

Serena slides into Bernie’s arms in a practised move and snuggles. She holds the phone a few inches away from her squinting face. 

“Ok, here’s what she says ‘Bunny! Serena! We KISSED! WE KISSED!!!!!!!’ and then there’s bunch of these holographic emojis that I don’t understand”

Bernie laughs. 

“She definitely has your genes. Don Juanita of Holby.”

Serena swats her shoulder, but she’s laughing too. 

“Oh yes? You don’t think she picked up a few moves from Major Bunny Wolfe?”

Bernie tries to look offended, but Serena’s eyes are full of mirth and she snorts. 

“I’ll show you moves.” 

Serena squeals and they roll round, ready to spend the rest of the afternoon very much like they started it, before Guinevere comes home and gives them a play by play of everything that happened. 

As Bernie kisses Serena’s neck, she spends a second marvelling at how perfect her life is. 

And then Serena moans, and she goes back to work.


End file.
